


Gray Area

by AgentStannerShipper



Series: Paint It Red Verse [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Hints of Johnlock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-20 00:12:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1489549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentStannerShipper/pseuds/AgentStannerShipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's finally put all the pieces together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gray Area

“We need to have a talk.”

Sherlock didn’t even bother looking up from where he was currently sprawled on the couch to look his flatmate in the eye, “if this is about the small intestine in the fridge, I need it for an experiment.”

John looked exasperated, “there’s a small intestine in the fridge?”

“There is now.”

John shook his head, “that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“You want to know where I go on Saturdays.” It wasn’t a question, because of course that was what John was going to ask.

“Yes,” John replied, “every week that we don’t have a case, and even some weeks that we do, like clockwork, you disappear, and when you come back you’ve gotten your nails painted.”

“That should answer your question then.” Really, if he already knew where Sherlock was going, why had he bothered to ask?

“That doesn’t explain the texting, though,” John continued, eyes narrowing at Sherlock, “you almost always have me doing the texting, and yet I see you with your phone out, texting someone, right before you disappear. You’re obviously meeting up with someone, and I want to know who.”

Sherlock graced his flatmate with a smile, “you’re getting much better John. Still a bit daft more often than not, but you’re catching on.”

John frowned at him, “that doesn’t answer the question, Sherlock.”

Sherlock looked idly at his nails. He quite liked the light blue color. It went with his eyes rather well, “deduce it, John.”

“What?”

“I said, deduce it. Put the pieces together. I’m sure you can, even with your slow mind.”

John gaped at him for a moment, and then he pulled himself together, expression becoming more thoughtful (he knew better than to fight Sherlock on this, but that’s what being flatmates did). He spoke his thought process aloud, much like Sherlock did occasionally, “it must be someone you know I don’t care for, or you wouldn’t bother to hide it from me like this. That narrows it down considerably. Possibly female, but the only women we both know that I don’t care much for is Irene Aldler, and last I checked, she was dead. So it’s a male then. It can’t be your brother, because you don’t like him either and you wouldn’t hide the fact that you were talking to him from me.” A strange look came across John’s face then, as if something had just occurred to him, “Sherlock, you came back without your nails painted, and you didn’t come home with them painted again until after Moriarty came back…” He trailed off, as if daring Sherlock to say it. Sherlock merely raised his eyebrows expectantly. “You’ve been off getting your nails done with Moriarty,” John surmised.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?”

“You don’t think like that, Sherlock, and we both know it.” It was clear John was struggling to remain calm, so Sherlock decided it was time to deter him.

He stood up, moving to leave the room. “Where are you going?” John called after him.

When Sherlock came back, he was holding a bottle of nail polish. He held it up so John could see and smiled.

“What’s that for?” John asked warily.

Half an hour later, John frowned down at his orange (well, it didn’t look much like orange, it was so light it was almost yellow) nails and tried to remember what he had been arguing with Sherlock about.


End file.
